


the hargreeves family versus the homophobic agenda

by austenns



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Post-Season/Series 01, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 00:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austenns/pseuds/austenns
Summary: The first time the Hargreeves siblings really band together, they're trying to get Ben to not be so oblivious. It's actually not a bad night.





	the hargreeves family versus the homophobic agenda

**Author's Note:**

> hello, welcome to the tua fic where everything is light-adjacent and nothing actually hurts, because this show killed me. i just wanted to sit down and _write_ and this happened. there's no actual plot here, just fluff :P takes place post-season one, but there aren't any spoilers.
> 
>  **note:** i am in no way implying that you can't figure out your sexuality when you're young, or anything like that. but for the sake of this fic, i'm saying ben never really _thought_ about it before he died.

In the movies, the apocalypse looks a lot like a barren desert. Stretches of swirling dirt, buildings crumbled and bones sticking out from the debris. The sun always shines in just the right way to emphasize the whole _and not a-one was left standing_ thing, if it weren’t clear enough. The unexpected and inexplicably young survivors walk around with bandanas covering their mouths, and goggles that they never _actually_ wear over their eyes. Looking back on it, it only seems fitting that post-apocalyptic America is still dedicated to their aesthetic.

In reality, the apocalypse looks like seven teenagers stuffed into one rounded booth in a bustling diner in the early 2000’s. They poke at soggy pancakes and overcooked hash browns, while Five chugs burnt coffee that was _supposed_ to be for Luther.

Their not-that-fearless leader has this pinched look on his face, a downturn of his lips that usually precedes an argument none of them gives a shit about, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe bogged down by the same exhaustion that has Vanya tipping over, passed out on Ben’s shoulder, oblivious to the way Klaus swipes strawberries and whipped cream from her plate. Or the way Allison glances over at her every now and again, as if to make sure she’s still alive, the same way Diego _doesn’t._ As if he’s afraid he’ll look around, and all of this will be a dream, and he’ll wake up to a sight similar to what Five saw when he flashed forward too many decades.

It’s interesting, in a way. How they lack the malice they love to hold onto, acting like the teens they aren’t, who grew up in a stable home they didn’t have. Shared trauma, how it’s (not) handled, and shit.

There’s probably something poetic in that. _Everything’s_ poetic, if you’re hipster enough.

The waiter comes back with another plate of pancakes, dirt tucked beneath his fingernails and bright blue eyes flitting briefly towards Ben’s face. His cheeks are dusted red, his smile nervous at the edges when he sets the plate down. The only one awake enough to have _manners,_ Ben mutters a thanks to the boy, who flushes a little harder and smiles a little wider, before going to see to other duties. Klaus’ brows shoot up, and Allison wakes up just enough to seem interested. When they cast expectant looks towards Ben, he only shuffles one of the ‘cakes onto his plate, the epitome of an anticlimax, and digs in.

Klaus throws a napkin at him. “ _Ben!_ He’s into you, are you _blind?”_

“Wha,” Diego asks around an unchewed mouth of eggs, at the same time Ben asks, “Who?”

A disgusted noise sounds in the back of Allison’s throat, and Five rolls his eyes. What a picture they must paint.

Luther kicks Diego beneath the table, but Allison throws them both harsh glares before they can start. Because they’ve been doing so _well._

“The busboy,” Klaus whispers conspiratorially, completely ignoring his brothers’ neverending feud. In some ways, Five is glad he wasn’t raised with them. He’s not sure he could live with himself if he’d grown up to participate in what is, essentially, an hourly dick measuring contest. Whenever he tries to imagine an alternate life for himself, he can’t imagine one, anyway. Every single one looks like the apocalypse. The first one, though. Not _this_ one. “He’s been giving you goo goo eyes that put Luther and Allison’s to _shame._ ”

“ _Hey_.”

“Real mature, Klaus.”

Ben says nothing. His gaze lists to the side, finding the boy in question. He stands over another table, pen and pad out as he takes their orders. All long limbs and carefully defined muscle, perfectly coiffed hair and worn sneaks, he looks like what Luther would be, if he’d had a normal set of parents to appropriately urge him to play sports and get a job at sixteen, instead of a cryptic dick of a dad who forced him to save the world and a robot mother programmed to stand there and look pretty. (What a fantasy.)

“I think,” Ben says, “he’s technically a waiter. Not a busboy.”

“Are you _kidding me?_ ” Klaus throws his arms up in his typical over the top exasperation. The tips of his fingers brush roughly against Vanya’s nose on their way up, and he _cringes_ at his own mistake. But she only crinkles her nose in her sleep, tugging Diego’s blazer closer around her as she curls further against Ben.

Five isn’t the only one who stares, waiting for her to go still again, before he finally stops holding his breath. They _all_ breathe easier, Allison nearly slumping over the table. Klaus _does_ slump over the table.

Two weeks. Two weeks since the apocalypse (the second — first? — one), two weeks of jumping timelines to right wrongs and avoid being caught. Two weeks, and they still don’t know how the fuck to act around each other.

“What I’m _saying—_ ” Klaus continues emphatically, arms taking up whatever space on the table is left. He gets syrup on his left forearm, and his right wrist lands in a ring of water left from someone’s cup, but he hardly seems to notice. “—is that you should try talking to him.”

Ben uses the end of his fork to cut a triangle into his pancakes, seemingly only devoting half of his attention to Klaus’ theatrics. “Why? We’re probably not going to be here that long.” His eyes shift to Klaus for one significant moment, before they drop back to his food. “No point in getting his hopes up.”

“Actually,” Five interrupts, if only because he likes knowing more than they do and letting it show, “I don’t know how long we’ll be here. It might be a few more weeks than normal. Maybe months.” He doesn’t say _years_ , but it’s not an impossibility.

They’ve been here for one week already, and the most he’s managed to do with his powers is make it to the bathroom before there’s a _real_ emergency. It won’t do any good to share that, though, so he doesn’t.

Klaus throws an arm in Five’s direction, as if to say, _See? Even_ he _thinks I’m right!_ Which isn’t true, but it’s not _untrue_ , either. He doesn’t particularly care who his siblings chose to flirt with in their time here, if they do it at all, but there’s no reason to _abstain_ from flirting.

“Wait, are you—” Luther clears his throat awkwardly, gaze flitting unsurely between his siblings, before landing on Ben. “I mean, are you, uh…”

Five’s going to _guess_ his awkwardness is because of who Luther is as a person, and not some latent homophobia. That mentality’s a little outdated, even for _them._

Ben seems to be of the same mindset. He throws Luther an unimpressed look, like he’s giving him the benefit of the doubt here, but it’s best not to contest it. “I was dead,” he dryly reminds them, as if any of them had a hope of forgetting. “I never really had the chance to be picky.”

Allison and Diego both give him curious looks, one slightly more disturbed than the other. “What about now?” Allison asks, a hint of excitement to her high pitched tone.

“Are you saying ghosts can fuck?” Diego asks at the same time and a little too loudly, garnering weird looks from the young couple seated a few feet away.

Klaus gasps. “That’s actually a good question. Ben?”

“I’m not answering that.” It’s probably because the answer should be _obvious_ , but Klaus lets out a disappointed noise, as if he’s missing out on some scandal. An idiot, regardless of age. “Now…” Ben looks to the waiter again, who glances over at the same time. Another shy smile, crooked and with the typical dreaminess that movie producers and modeling agencies trip over themselves to get ahold of. Ben returns it, a little watered down, a little unsure. “I don’t know. He’s cute.”

Klaus grins, lips stretched wide enough to make him look as deranged as no one ever stopped him from being. “ _Super_ cute.”

“But I’m way too old for him.”

“Not right _now_ , you aren’t,” Allison sings-song teasingly. “I mean, I don’t know the morals of time traveling and dating, but Klaus dated that Dave guy, right?”

“Right!” A pause. “ _Well,_ in any timeline, Dave’s older than me, but the _point is_ right now? You’re sixteen, Ben! So be sixteen! Flirt with other sixteen year olds! And even if you _don’t_ like guys like that, at least you figured that out, right?”

Another pointless stab at his food. “Yeah, I guess.” Ben looks up again, eyes lingering on the boy for another moment. Five doesn’t need to be a psychologist or world’s best brother to see the anxiety that flits across Ben’s expression, rare and unnecessary. His elbows brace on the table as he leans forward, voice dropping to a whisper. The others mimic his posture like a group of gossiping grandmothers. Five _briefly_ considers hurling himself out the nearest window, but decides against it. Better not waste the coffee. “What if he’s not into me? Or—”

“Okay, he’s _totally_ into you,” Allison interrupts, before he can let that train of thought carry him places he shouldn’t be.

Diego lets out a noncommittal noise. “Even if he isn’t, you’re not solving shit by waiting here. Just _go for it._ ” That, at least, Five agrees with. There are far more serious matters than an innocent attraction between two guys, even if the whole thing gets more and more complex when you dig deeper. There are variables like _time travel_ and _resurrection_ and _apocalypse_ and _timelines,_ but Five doubts a five second interaction is going to seriously fuck with the past. Whatever Klaus had with Dave didn’t. It fucked _him_ up, but not the entire timeline.

If you find a way to separate the two, anyway. You can’t _always_. If they haven’t learned by now that what’s earth shattering varies from person to person, then they haven’t learned anything at all.

But even then, there are far _scarier_ things than talking to a boy. There are worse things than finding out what you like in a person. There are shittier things than taking a risk, and Ben’s _lived through them._ Died from one of them. Not that Five knows the story yet; not that he’s worked up the courage to ask.

He cares, he _does_ , but digging through all of the shit to find that strength and ask how his brother died, in a way he can’t fix without fucking everything up — that’s not something he can do yet.

Digression, regardless.

Point is, Ben has nothing to lose here.

“Ow!” Ben looks up at Five, eyes wide and appalled at the unexpected pain in his shin. Five smiles with sugar sweet innocence, foot placed beneath him like it never moved. “What was _that_ for?”

“Go talk to him. They’ll never shut up, if you don’t.” An easy out. Not an _untrue_ one, but not the fullness of honesty, either. Ben has this look, like he _knows_ Five is full of shit, and maybe he does. It’s not like Five has anything to hide. He gestures towards the waiter impatiently, shooing his brother away from the table.

Ben wets his lips, eyes shifting over to the boy in question once more. His chin bobs, a quick nod to himself, before he pries Vanya off of his shoulder. She jolts awake, but Klaus is quick to take over, tugging her into his side. She doesn’t fall back to sleep, instead watching with half-lidded eyes as Allison and Diego scoot out of the booth to let Ben out.

Luther’s hand lifts to Allison’s waist to steady her, and Five could _pretend_ he doesn’t see her step out of reach, but they all see it. They’ve seen it in little things every day, where she leaves the table once he sits down, takes her coffee up to her room when he stumbles into the kitchen, closes her door before he can say goodnight.

They have to band together to fix this, all thirty years of unresolved trauma and tension, but no one ever said forgiveness was _easy._

There’s nothing subtle about the way they watch Ben. All six of them stare as if it’s the most riveting thing in the _world_ , watching their brother make conversation with the waiter. They both have these _smiles_ , the kind of obvious chemistry that leaves theater fanatics and teenage girls frothing at the mouth. Blondie’s cheeks grow red again, hands tucking into his pockets as he leans into Ben’s space — not overtly so, but enough to make it clear that he’s not looking for a best bro. He says something that makes Ben laugh, inaudible from where they sit but _obvious_ , if only in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Five doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ben — seen _any_ of them — laugh like that before, and that’s the kind of realization that could crush you, if you let it.

They aren’t the only onlookers, either. Five notices when he finally looks away from his brother, from that too wide grin that you only experience when you’ve been through hell and back and you’re only _just_ seeing a benefit. Other patrons watch out the corners of their eyes, some whispering to their kids not to stare, _it’s rude_. Not _every_ look is full of approval and anticipation. There’s disgust, _of course there is._ If it’s there in 2019, it’s there a decade and a half before, obvious and hidden all at once. A fascinated kid, no older than thirteen, glances over more often than strictly necessary, with something like _hope_ in that expression. The girl at the cash register glances over at them, raises an eyebrow, and goes about her business. It’s practiced indifference, but it’s better than hate.

Then there’s the man on the other end of the diner, dog tags and steaming coffee and slanted glares. His gaze flickers back to Ben and Blondie every couple of seconds, grip tightening on his mug.

Really, Five could snap his neck in the blink of an eye. Could grab the gun the owner keeps behind the counter and nail him between the eyes before his siblings even realize he moved. Could transport the man to a busy highway or the top of a apartment complex a block away and be back before Vanya’s fully awake. He could, could, could do a thousand different things to him, take him out the second he gets aggressive, because he _looks like the type._

Not that Five is expecting a fight. The kid can only stand around and flirt for so long before his boss gets irritated, so this can only last a few more seconds. Not enough time to work _anyone_ up enough to start a fight.

But Diego’s fingers still twitch on the table, because he _is_ expecting a fight. Itching for one, anyway.

Five lets out an amused huff, tipping his coffee up to his lips. He’d love to see _that_ battle. The Umbrella Academy against archetypal homophobia. An easier battle, he thinks, than the one they’re fighting.

Allison and Klaus are damn near bouncing out of their seats by the time Ben returns to the table. They all shift over a little, letting him take the seat Diego occupied, because the seating arrangement, created mostly by Luther and Diego’s mutual need to be at the head of the table, doesn’t really _matter._ All they care about, all _any_ of them care about, is the way Ben’s a little breathless, mouth still stretched a little wider than before. If Five hadn’t been paying attention, he’d think Ben had sneaked off to make out with the guy at some point. He certainly _looks_ like it.

When everyone leans in for details, Five doesn’t even try to act disinterested. Sue him, he’s _invested._

“I think,” Ben finally says, dazedly looking ahead, “I like that guy.”

Klaus’ cheer is a bit too loud for _any_ setting, and he attracts far too much attention by throwing his arms up like that. But his happiness is echoed, if a bit watered down, by the rest of them. In the squeal Allison lets out, and Vanya’s tired smile, and Diego’s shark-like grin, in Five’s own hum of approval. There’s still _exploration_ to be had, because there’s no way they aren’t going to run with this, see what Ben _actually_ likes in a person; if it’s limited to gender or personality or what. Klaus is already talking about it, words tripping over one another. He doesn’t make any sense, but he _never_ does, and that’s all the sense they need, really. Allison chips in, Vanya crinkling her nose here and there, and Luther makes a comment every now and again because _no, that’s called prostitution, Klaus,_ and Diego scoffs at the mini argument that breaks out over it.

Five should break it up. This timeline isn’t _permanent._ There’s no point in finding something _lasting_ here, that’s not what he was thinking before. He doesn’t want to see Ben go down that same fucked up road Klaus did, falling in love and losing it, losing _himself_. He doesn’t want any of them to find anything they’ll be desperate to hold onto, because they’ll have to leave eventually.

But truly. There are worse things in the world, in their fucking _lives_ , than finding yourself in a cute boy or girl or whatever. There are shittier things than loving and losing. They’ve all done it, they’ll continue to do it, because they don’t have a shred of luck.

And so for the moment, Five listens to the clamor of their voices, jumping one over the other without any sense of direction. There’s no math that could make _them_ make sense, as individuals or the gestalt, and there’s something equally exhausting and relieving in that.

So if he points out a couple of flaws in Klaus’ master plan — “The Hargreeves Siblings Versus the Homophobic Agenda,” he announces a little too loudly, and it’s not even _sort of_ an accident. “Ya know, like the book? Did any of you read it? _Ugh._ ” — then at least there’s no life or death in figuring it out.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this nonsense, please drop a kudo and comment. if ya want, you can find me on tumblr at princzvkos.


End file.
